


Miracle

by riyku



Series: Skam Sunday [5]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Comeplay, Felching, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 01:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11093841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riyku/pseuds/riyku
Summary: "Tell me what you want," Even asks Isak."Everything.  Anything."





	Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> you know you've got a real friend when you message her first thing on a sunday morning to admit that you've cried over writing a goddamn felching fic, and all she does is send you a praying hands emoji. tebtosca is the best. full stop.
> 
>  
> 
> \--for penny.

Isak grins up at Even, wide open, double-dimpled, and it sets Even back on his heels. Time bends for a while, stops. His hands freeze along their gradual path up Isak's legs and Even is stuck, staring at the knobby structure of Isak's hipbones, the pale trail of hair below his belly button, just now coming in and little more than fine peach fuzz, the mark he'd sucked into Isak's collarbone three days ago. It's fading, yellow at the edges and pale pink in the center, and if Even looks close enough he can see the lingering shape of his teeth in it. Isak has his thighs draped over Even's and his arms stretched above his head, fingers curled loosely toward his palms but twitchy, like he's eager to touch and forcing himself not to.

The credits are rolling on the movie they'd stopped paying attention to. It had been boring and pompous and more of an excuse to cradle Isak between his legs for a couple of hours anyway, and besides, neither of them understand a lot of Italian. Outside, car doors are slamming shut and tires are swishing on the wet pavement, and in here, Even's forgetting to blink or breathe or do anything that's not simply looking at Isak.

"Hey. Hi," Isak says, legs flexing against Even's and bringing him back. He always brings him back. "That film was shit. I love you."

Even pulls him closer, bears down to give Isak all of his weight. "You can pick next time. I love you." He tries to say it in a new way every time, prove to Isak that he means it. That it's never a hammer-tap reflex to say it back. 

Isak is a fucking miracle, and Even's not quite sure what he's done to deserve him. He's a crying statue of a saint, a last-minute lucky streak, Even's salvation most often wrapped in an ancient snapback, knockoff tennis shoes and a stolen sweatshirt. He accepts every part of Even, swallows the jagged pieces of him along with all the rest and doesn't mind it if they cut and scrape on the way down.

A slow roll of Even's hips makes Isak arch up, throw an arm around his shoulders. Finally touch. Even kisses him hard, pries his mouth open with his tongue, licks at the gaps in his teeth, sucks on Isak's tongue and Isak gasps into it, like the taste of Even surprises him, even after all this time.

"Tell me what you want," Even says, and slides his hand between them, pushing at Isak's boxers and wrapping his fingers around his dick, feeling it strain against his palm, the damp heat of it.

Isak's different now, finally starting to settle into his body, more comfortable with the particular way his skin stretches across his bones. He's still the same kid Even fell in love with months ago, but now he'll kiss Even hello and goodbye and just because on busy street corners, smile up at him and duck his head and reach out to hold Even's hand and pull him along. 

Before, he might have blushed and gone a bit shy, hide his face under the crook of his elbow or against Even's neck. He would mumble something quiet and half-formed into Even's skin and leave him guessing. 

"Anything. Everything," Isak tells him and kisses him again, bites down on Even's bottom lip and tugs at it.

"You already have it," Even says. "Be specific." He rolls to his side just enough to shove his shorts off, help Isak kick his own to the floor then shivers into the full body skin-on-skin contact. Isak's flat, hard chest against his, the slide of their dicks, the dig of Isak's nails into the flesh of his shoulders.

"Want you in me. Wanna have you fill me up," Isak says, his voice a deep slur, the best fucking sound Even's ever heard. 

"My dick? My fingers?" Even asks, but he's already begun to slide down Isak's body, trailing kisses as he goes, taking Isak's nipple between his teeth and teasing it stiff. " _Specific_ , Isak."

"Your tongue." Isak's eyes are doing that hot, liquid thing Even can't get enough of, heavy-lidded and almost full-blown black."Want you to taste like me."

Even's head swims some from the sudden southward rush of blood, heart jackhammering against his ribs and he hikes Isak's legs up, splays them wide and presses them to Isak's chest, tells him to keep them that way, then noses at Isak's balls, licks at the soft skin behind them. Down further to flatten his tongue against Isak's rim, feel it tighten against his mouth with a sweet little flutter. Isak tastes like sweat, a darker, primal taste beneath that. 

Spit will only get him so far and Even grapples blindly for the lube, not sure if Isak pushes it into his hand or if he's just gotten lucky, pops it open and spills some out, rubs it between his fingers to warm it because Isak is a brat like that and doesn't like it when it's cold, and slides two in. Isak's hips jump and his hand finds the back of Even's head, fist forming in his hair and pulling him closer. He's forgotten to keep both his legs up and he plants a foot on Even's back, uses Even's body for leverage to keep himself up as Even stretches him, crooks his thumbs inside of Isak and licks in. Isak clenches around his tongue, doesn't hold back his loud moan punctuated by ragged curses. He shifts his hips, twists in a serpentine way and Even tries to keep up with him, suck and kiss and keep his tongue buried inside while Isak rides his mouth.

"I'm gonna. Gonna," Isak pants. 

"Fuck. Not yet." Even pulls back with one last smacking kiss to his rim, one last glance at where Isak's tongued open and loose, wet with lube and spit, and he crawls back up Isak's body, kissing the places where his damp dick has left snail trails on his belly, paying attention to the other nipple this time.

Isak whines into it as Even kisses him deep, laps at the taste of himself, tries to follow Even's mouth when he breaks away, a long string of saliva connecting their lips together. 

"More," Isak says, grappling at Even's shoulders, body twisting with want, and Even grabs him by the hair, yanks his head back to change the angle, spits directly into Isak's open mouth. Isak's eyes fly open wide and he shudders, makes a sound that's more animal than anything, so Even does it again. He misses a little and a drop lands on Isak's bottom lip and Isak's tongue darts out to pick it up. Even watches as Isak's adam's apple works when he swallows, the flicker of his pulse in his throat. Almost loses it when Isak sticks his tongue out and silently asks for more.

Isak tips his hips up to tell Even he's ready, show him how bad he wants it. He reaches down and guides Even in and his mouth falls open at Even's first slow, steady slide. Even stops, elbows propped on either side of Isak's head, fingers twisting in Isak's curls. There's a white-static noise in his ears, heartbeat like racing percussion and Isak begins to move beneath him, grab and knead at Even's shoulders, work himself up and down Even's dick and then Even's there. Back again. A slow slide out and fast punch in, two fingers fucking into of Isak's mouth so he can taste himself there too. Isak's tight and slick and so fucking beautiful that sometimes Even fears he's not real, that he can't be real, that he's one prolonged delusion, a pill he's forgotten to take. This boy, who always says and does the right thing at the right time, or the wrong thing in the right way. 

Isak draws him in, holds him there. Heels set into the back of Even's legs, thighs like a vice around his middle as he orgasms, spunk hot and sticky and smearing on their stomachs, and it feels like possession. Ownership. Even wants to be owned. He already is. 

Even is surrounded by Isak, inside and out and nothing compares to this, not in this universe or any other. There's nothing like the slack smear of Isak's mouth against his, how his body opens up and gives in very specific ways, the scratch of Isak's nails on his back. A few more thrusts, staggered and stilted and entirely without grace, and Even comes, hips slammed tight against Isak's ass, trying sink in further, get as far into Isak as he can.

Another whine at the loss when Even slips out, one that Even matches but knows how to make better. He dives down and fits his mouth to Isak's swollen, fucked-out rim, licks and sucks at him, cleans him up. 

Even kisses him all filthy and comestained, eats at his mouth and feeds him his spunk with his tongue until Isak is squirming, beginning to get hard again, clinging to Even, wrapping himself around him.

"Do it again," Isak says, sex-drunk and hoarse. Needy in a way no one else ever gets to see.

"Yeah. Anything. Everything," Even says against his mouth. "Gimme a minute. Fuck, you taste so good."

-end


End file.
